The story of 12 years. This story follows me in my discovery of myself and how I handled it. From friendships and first crushes, to getting my first binder. Follow me in my journey of being the person I always was meant to be. Saturday, February 20...
I am sorry its been so long. Its time to say everything. No holding back. So...My mother went through my texts, and she took away my phone and computer, claiming I was talking to strangers. My mother said I sided against her, and I shouldn't say "private info aka being trans" online. She denies my being trans as "playing pretend". She took away my friends. She took away Eli, Aven, Vesper, Rat, so many more people I love and care about. I just got my computer back for like 15 minutes to write. I realized, that for the two weeks I didn't have a place to talk about things, I realized just how much I kept bottled up from the world.
Theres this boy in my class named Gavin. He is nice. And there is this kid named Joseph. He is short and has an ugly blonde afro. I call him The Disco Dwarf. He doesn't like it much. Sometimes he steps on my feet, or I catch him and his ugly egg headed friend staring at me. Its funny.
There is this girl named Antonella. She is nice. She's bi...she's cute to. We went to tea together last Saturday.
I realized I held back everything. From everyone. From myself. On the long bus rides to school.. I find myself leaning against the window, thinking about Aven. Thinking about all the missed notifications. Something like this.
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It made me cry when I read it. Because it proved my theory. It made me cry because its everything I thought it would be. It made me cry... because when I thought about Aven, on those long bus rides...when I thought about the missed notifications...when I thought about everything, or anything at all...my stomach would do twists and turns. Like a spike of sadness, like my stomach was coiling around itself to form a knot. I hurt every time I thought about them, about this, about me. I hurt when I thought about all of us.
Last week I was so hurt, I almost cut myself to the point of continuos bleeding. I wrote a will at age 12. My mom noticed the bandaid I would keep on my arm. My mom kept finding bloody tissues around the house. "My nose bled, The cat scratched me, I just picked a scab." It was none of the above. But I would never tell my mom, I will never tell her what it really is. I will never tell her that her own dear sweet child, who is supposed to be so happy living in the suburban countryside... her "poor baby" was cutting their arms with scissors from the bathroom drawer.
I don't have to much time left, in life...in this situation. But I know something. Something I didn't know last week. I now know, this to shall pass. Like every other obstacle in life, this to shall pass.
